Interlude
by Red O'Toole
Summary: Immediately after the events of Unleashed Fury Heyes becomes morose and tries to come to terms with what happened all the while nursing Kid back to health.


23

Interlude

By

Red O'Toole

Exhaustion, bone deep and mind numbing, overtook the two former outlaws after the events of the previous week. Kid Curry hated to admit it, but his battered body ached more than he'd ever thought possible and so when his partner, Hannibal Heyes, insisted he return to bed, he didn't protest.

His partner's docile obedience at being sent to bed told Hannibal Heyes just how hurt he really was. He followed the Kid to the small bedroom and watched as he gingerly laid himself back down with a stifled groan. The scabbed over welts on his back were mute accusations of Heyes' failure. The burden of that failure weighed on the ex-leader's spirit; he leaned on the doorframe, his arms crossed, and sighed heavily.

Alert to his friend's smallest sound, Curry heard the sigh and said, without opening his eyes, "You need to get some rest, too, Heyes. I'm willin' t'bet you ain't slept in a couple of days."

"I've been busy," the other said in his own defense.

"Well, y'ain't busy now! Get some sleep! I ain't in no shape t'nursemaid ya!"

The dark haired outlaw snorted. "Nursemaid _me_? That'll be the day! Besides, it's broad daylight."

"Get some sleep, Heyes, or I swear I'll get up an' _put_ you t'sleep!"

"Fine, if it'll keep you happy!"

Curry smiled softly as he heard his best friend's footsteps retreat to the other room and then silence reigned in the small cabin.

Heyes eyed the bed warily, as if it were a rattlesnake coiled to strike. It had been a good many years since sleep had been his friend - - so many that he had a difficult time remembering undisturbed rest. He was wise enough to know that he couldn't continue much longer without sleep, though, so he stretched his lean frame out on the mattress, hoping for rest if not outright sleep. If his muscles had had voices of their own they would have moaned aloud in pleasure.

As easy as it was for his body to relax, it wasn't so simple to turn off his brain. He lay with his hands behind his head, trying to force his thoughts to behave, but they insisted on returning to recent events, bouncing from one thing to another without rhyme or reason. However, in the end, the demands of his body won out and he fell into an uneasy sleep filled with incoherent dreams of blood, rage, and death.

The sun was dropping towards the horizon when he jerked awake from the worst of the nightmares, heart pounding frantically in his chest and gasping for breath, and decided to give sleep up as a lost cause. He kicked himself free of his twisted, sweat-soaked blanket and pulled on his pants, then padded quietly on stockinged feet into the main room of the cabin. He stirred the embers from the morning's fire and added kindling to rebuild the flames. He watched the tiny flames eat at the slivers of wood until they were well enough established to add larger pieces of wood. Satisfied, he stood and stretched. His eyes were drawn to a cabinet behind the table and his feet followed his sight, his hand reaching inside to pull out the bottle of whiskey from which Captain Glover had served him and the Kid a long week ago; obviously the ex-military man had not been a heavy drinker as it was still three-quarters full. He poured himself a generous glassful and gulped half of it down as if it were medicine, sighing as the warmth spilled from his belly into his veins and through his body, soothing his jangled nerves.

He grasped the bottle by its neck and, with glass in hand, wandered out to the small porch and surveyed the familiar surroundings, abnormally quiet without the gang present.

Something in the dirt caught his eye and he stooped down to pick it up. It was a length of rope, the hemp stiffened and nearly black with dried blood. Heyes felt his stomach tighten and he tossed off the rest of the whiskey in the glass before picking up another, similar piece of rope. He stood and examined the wooden posts that supported the porch's roof and found smudges of blood. He raised his hand to the stain, looked to the side and spotted a matching spot on the other post. He set the bottle down at his feet and stretched his arm upward to the other mark. His vivid imagination flashed to the Kid helplessly bound, back bared and bloody from the lash of the whip. The curly blond head raised and pain-filled blue eyes stared at his partner in mute accusation.

"Oh, Kid!" he groaned, dropping his hands to his face where he rubbed his eyes as if he could rub the vision away. His shoulders slumped with the weight of his guilt. He retrieved the whiskey and, shunning the glass, drank straight from the bottle. He sank down to sit on the wooden step, staring sightlessly ahead, his vision turned inward; sorrow and rage warring within his heart.

The painful tugging of the scabs that criss-crossed his back dragged Kid Curry from a deep dreamless sleep. He groaned, tried unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position, and finally, the growling of his stomach convinced him to give up and get up. Easier said than done, though, he discovered as every muscle in his body protested the effort. He longed to change his dirty, bloodstained jeans, but he couldn't spot his saddlebags anywhere, nor did he feel up to the effort. His shirt, however, was hung over a chair and he slipped it on but left it open and loose.

He stepped out of his room as quietly as possible in order to not disturb his partner, but knew when he saw the fire built up that Heyes was no longer asleep - - _if_ he ever had been. Before he left to hunt him down, he filled the coffee pot and set it over the fire to boil.

Wondering how far he would have to go, Curry was surprised to find Heyes sitting, shoulders slumped, head drooping, on the porch step, a bottle of whiskey nearing its bottom in his hand.

"Heyes?" he said, drawing no response from his friend. He stepped closer and put his hand on the other's shoulder. "You okay, Heyes?"

The dark head rose slowly and the Kid looked into the familiar face that was drawn with grief. "I'm sorry, Kid!" Heyes choked out raggedly.

"Sorry for what?" Curry asked, confused.

"For what happened to you - - for gettin' us involved in this mess in the first place - - for not bein' here t'back you up …"

"Heyes, everythin' that happens bad ain't _your_ fault!" He reached down stiffly and took the bottle out of his partner's hand. "How much was in this bottle?"

Heyes shrugged.

"It don't matter - - you've had enough no matter how much there was. Come on, you need some coffee."

"What I _need_ is t'see that bastard dead! I can't _believe_ I didn't do it when I had the chance! See, that's my fault, too! What good is a partner who doesn't avenge his partner?"

"I don't need avengin', Heyes, an' if I did I'm perfectly capable of doin' it myself!"

"How you gonna avenge yourself if you're _dead_, Kid?" Heyes glared at his friend in disgust.

"Well, I _ain't_ dead, so no avengin' is necessary! Come on, get up! You need to sober up!" Curry leaned over, grabbed Heyes' elbow and tugged.

"_Fine_, I'll come have some coffee, but I ain't drunk! _Morose_, maybe, but not drunk!"

Heyes found his feet with grace and only a little wobble to Curry's immense relief since his own legs weren't feeling any too steady. Together they made the short distance to the table inside and Heyes flopped into a chair while Curry placed two tin cups on the table then picked up a rag to shield his hand from the hot handle of the coffee pot. As he began to turn to the fire a wave of dizziness swept over him and he grabbed the edge of the table to keep himself erect.

Instantly sober, Heyes leaped to his feet to assist his friend. "Sit down, Kid, take it easy! _I'll _get the coffee! What're you doin' out of bed anyway?"

Head spinning from hunger and Heyes' sudden about face, Curry could only reply, "I'm hungry."

"A fine partner I am making you get up to take care of yourself!" Heyes picked up the rag and removed the coffee pot from the fire, pouring two cups of the steaming liquid without spilling a drop. "Let me see what's around here to eat." From a bowl he pulled a biscuit and tossed it to Curry. "Gnaw on that while I fix something; it's from last night and may be a little hard, but you can dunk it in your coffee to soften it a bit."

While the Kid exercised his teeth on the biscuit, Heyes continued rummaging. With a triumphant cry he came up with a straw-filled box. "Eggs, Kid! There's gotta be some bacon around here - - how does bacon an' eggs sound?"

Curry gave his partner a long-suffering look and said, "Heyes, this hard biscuit tastes heavenly to me, so whatever you come up with will be great!"

"I'll get a fire goin' in the stove an' you'll be eatin' in no time!"

Curry watched his friend bustle about the room getting the stove started, cracking eggs into a bowl, and slicing thick pieces of bacon, his dark mood vanished like a cloud crossing in front of the sun. He even whistled snatches of his favorite tune. A soft smile touched the blond's lips. If his long experience with Heyes had taught him nothing else, it was that his partner tended to brood if he had nothing to occupy his mind and the quickest way to snap him out of it was to get him involved in a project. He didn't mind being Heyes' project because he really was hungry and admitted to himself that he really wasn't up to the task himself.

Soon the mouth-watering smell of frying bacon filled the small cabin and Curry's stomach growled in anticipation. "How's it goin' there, Heyes?"

With a broad grin, the dark-haired outlaw speared the bacon pieces and laid them on a plate. "Two minutes while I scramble these eggs, Kid!" With a loud crackle the beaten eggs hit the bacon fat and Heyes put his entire attention to not burning them. Satisfied, he scraped them onto another plate and placed both plates in the center of the table. He placed an empty plate in front of the Kid and one for himself, along with forks, and said, "Dig in, Kid!"

"Any more o'them biscuits?" Kid asked.

"Sure!" He placed the bowl on the table and then, before sitting down himself, refilled their coffee cups.

Curry carefully divided the eggs in half, took half of the bacon, and pushed the plates across to his partner. "You _are_ goin' t'eat, aintcha?"

"Oh, yeah! Somethin' about cooking has made me really hungry!" Heyes replied enthusiastically, taking the chair opposite Curry.

"Hmph, cookin' huh? Couldn't just be that you ain't eaten lately either?" Curry scoffed with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"There could be something to that, too," the other agreed while filling his plate.

Without further words the two men dove into their food with a will. When both plates were slicked clean and Heyes had refilled their coffee again, they relaxed in their chairs—Heyes leaning back, Curry leaning forward with his elbows on the table in deference to his back, absentmindedly flexing his hands.

Heyes noticed the movement, concern clouding his eyes. For all his confidence of the previous night, he wasn't so sure the Kid's hands would be okay and he was very aware of how devastating it would be to his friend and to _him_, to be brutally honest, if his speed with a gun were somehow diminished.

"Feelin's comin' back," Curry replied, relief heavy in his voice. "Still ache pretty bad, but, you were right as usual, Heyes, they just gotta heal up."

Skillfully hiding his own relief, Heyes said, "See, Kid, when you gonna learn t'trust me?"

"Oh, I trust you, Heyes, when it's somethin' I know you know somethin' about, like safe combinations, nitroglycerin, train schedules, and such, but, last I knew, you ain't never had no trainin' in medicine!"

"I read a lot, Kid."

"Uh huh! Well, I'd sooner trust _your_ doctorin' than Chauncy Beauregard's!" Curry said wryly with a grin.

"You an' me both, Kid! How 'bout a few hands of poker?"

Truth to tell Curry would rather have gone back to bed, the food having made him sleepy, but he knew Heyes needed the company a little longer before facing sleep again, so he said, "Nothin' I'd like better, Heyes! Could you put on another pot of coffee?"

"Sure, Kid, no problem."

Heyes cleared the dishes off the table and pulled a deck of cards from his breast pocket. "You want to shuffle an' deal, Kid?"

"No, I don't think my hands are up for that, Heyes; you do it."

"My pleasure." With the ease of much practice, Heyes shuffled the deck and dealt them each a hand. They played several hands quietly, except for bets and calls and such, mostly concentrating on the game. Heyes was, anyway, since he won all the hands easily, and when he noticed that Curry had stayed on a pair of twos he threw down the cards saying, "That's it! Game's over!"

"What's wrong, Heyes?"

"You're tired, Kid - - it's time for you to go back t'bed."

"I ain't tired!" Curry protested. "C'mon, deal the cards."

"When _you_ stay on a pair of twos, Kid, I know you ain't thinkin' straight! I'd expect that of an amateur, not you cuz I've taught you better! 'Sides, I need to change the bandages on your wrists an' doctor your back, so let's go."

Curry didn't argue any further having been tired when they started playing an hour earlier. He stood stiffly and stretched carefully so as not to tear the scabs.

"Why don't you take off those jeans so I can wash 'em? When it's light I'll find your saddlebags so you can change." Heyes suggested while eyeing the bloodstained jeans distastefully.

"Gladly," Curry replied. "A wash tomorrow wouldn't be a bad idea either."

"I think you'd better let those cuts on your back heal a few more days before you soak in a tub, though."

"Fine, but I can wash the rest of me!"

Curry sat on the edge of his bed and watched as his partner unwrapped the bandages to expose the torn skin of his wrists. He winced at his first sight of the damage.

"No sign of infection," Heyes reported. "I'll smear some more of Brigitte's salve on 'em an rewrap 'em an' you'll be set. With any luck they won't scar."

"Scars don't matter, Heyes, just so long as I can still handle my gun!"

"Might matter to Mary," the other commented. "Not sure I want to be there when she sees the mess on your back!"

"Well, if she's lookin' at my naked back, Heyes, I sure don't expect you to be there!" the gunslinger retorted.

"Good point, Kid." Heyes tied off the last bandage. "Okay, take off your shirt an' lay down so I can put some of this stuff on your back."

"First let me get these jeans off."

"Need any help?"

"I hope I'm not too feeble to get my pants off, Heyes!" Curry rolled his eyes. He stood and, not without difficulty, unbuttoned the jeans as Heyes watched skeptically. He managed to push them below his hips, but the pain in his back as he attempted to bend further caused him to straighten while drawing in a hissing breath. He sat back on the bed and said, "Okay, Heyes, I could use your help."

Without comment, but with a slight shake of his head, Heyes squatted down, grasped a pant leg in each hand, and tugged the offending jeans off. "Now if you're done showing me how independent you are, will you lay down so I can tend to your back?"

"All right, Heyes, no need to get proddy!" Curry replied as he carefully stretched himself out face down on the bed with a sigh.

Though the red of his long johns disguised the stains, Heyes could see from the darker spots that blood had soaked through to them. He picked up the jar of Brigitte's ointment and examined it critically. "We're going to need more of this soon if we keep using it like we have been," he commented.

"Well, let's see if we can not, then," the blond grunted.

"Hey, it hasn't been all _us_," the dark haired man exclaimed. "Don't forget the Silver Kid and her horse used up a bit of it!"

"I'm not forgettin'. Just get on with it, will ya?"

Heyes scooped out a generous portion of the salve and with gentle strokes worthy of Florence Nightingale herself he smoothed it down each scabbed weal. His brows drew in over darkening eyes and he compressed his lips into a thin line. "I shoulda killed 'im, Kid, right then an' there!" he ground out. "I _wanted_ to, but I couldn't do it! Why? He _deserved_ it and not just for doin' this to you, but for killin' that poor kid on the train!"

Curry sighed. "I thought we went through this already, Heyes."

"No, you just distracted me with your bein' hungry!"

"All right, I'll tell you why you didn't do it, Heyes, though you oughta be able t'figure it out – you bein' the genius an' all! You didn't kill 'im cuz you ain't a cold-blooded killer, and that's what it woulda been – cold blooded! Heck, Heyes, you ain't _any_ kind of killer an' you know it an' that don't mean you ain't got guts! The law knows he deserves killin', too, and you know he'll get it just as surely as if you pulled the trigger."

"But I won't be there to see it."

"Is that so important?"

"He nearly _killed_ you, Kid! Of _course_ it's important! What would I have done without you if he had?"

"You know I know what you're feelin', Heyes - I felt the same way when you nearly died - - came a lot closer to it than I did as a matter of fact."

"Yeah, but _you_ killed the guy that shot me."

"An' you _still_ almost died, so what good did it do? Would it have brought you back? I killed 'im cuz there was no other way to get you to help."

"Do you regret it?"

Curry was silent for a long moment and Heyes almost thought he'd gone to sleep, when the gunslinger said, "I regret the need, but the need bein' there I did what had to be done. I don't dwell on it." He paused and raised his head to look his partner in the eye. "_That's_ what you'd've done, Heyes, you'd've brooded about killin' Glover until it made you sick, cuz that's how you are. That why you have _me_!"

Anger snapped in Heyes' dark eyes. "Don't you _ever_ sell yourself short like that, Kid! You're more to me than a gun an' if you don't know that then you're thicker headed than I thought!"

Curry grinned. "Still easy t'rile, ain't ya, Heyes? 'Course I know it. Now, if you're done doctorin', could I get some sleep?"

"Sure, Kid."

Curry watched as Heyes put the lid on the salve and gathered up what was left of the roll of bandages and the soiled jeans before heading for the door. Before he could walk out the door, Kid said, "Try to get some sleep tonight, okay?"

"I always try, Kid."

"Try _harder_!"

"Okay, Kid. Good night."

"'Night, Heyes."

The urgent need to empty his bladder dragged Curry reluctantly from sleep and over to the pot in the corner left there for that purpose. Normally he would have shunned the pot for a trip to the privy, but, besides the urgency of the need, his body seemed to ache more than it had the day before and he wanted to move as little as possible. His lower back cramped painfully as his stream began and even in the gray early morning light he could see that the color was darker than it should be. He fumbled for a match and grimaced as his suspicions were confirmed.

Although he wanted nothing more than to fall back into bed he knew the sticky filth that covered his body would make further sleep uncomfortable so he forced his limbs to carry him into the outer room.

A fire blazed in the hearth over which a large kettle of water steamed. A chair had been set in front of it over which Curry's pants had been draped to dry. A basin, two wash rags, soap and towel had been set out on the table, his saddlebags to the side, and the gunslinger shook his head with a slight upward curve of his lips at the thoughtfulness of his partner. Though Heyes was nowhere in sight, Curry didn't feel the need, nor did he have the strength, to hunt him down.

He ladled hot water into the basin, cooling it some with a ladle of cold water from the nearby bucket, and stripped off his filthy long johns to stand buck naked beside the fire, which, hot as it was, did not prevent goose bumps from rising on his skin. He wet the washrag, lathered it with the coarse soap, and scrubbed every part of his body that he could reach, sometimes wincing as he discovered a previously undiscovered bruise. Discarding the soapy rag, he wet the other and used it to rinse his body, using the water liberally, unconcerned with the puddle of water that was forming at his feet.

As he was toweling off the cabin door opened and Heyes staggered in, his arms loaded with firewood. His grin flashed at his partner. "'Mornin', Kid! Looks like we're in for a serious storm so I figgered I'd better stock up the firewood. How you feelin' today?"

Curry rummaged in his saddlebags and hauled out a wrinkled but clean set of long johns, sitting down to painfully begin the struggle to get his feet in them. "Sore," he replied shortly to his partner's question.

"I'll get breakfast started right away now you're up," Heyes continued cheerfully as he neatly stacked the firewood in its bin.

Slowly pulling the clothing up over his hips, Curry mumbled, "Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

The dark-haired outlaw's smile disappeared and he turned his sharp brown eyes on his partner. "What's wrong, Kid?"

"Nothin's wrong."

"Don't give me that! You _never_ turn down food unless somethin's wrong! Now what is it?"

Straightening, Curry faced his partner, who stared sternly at him, his hands on his hips. The blond sighed and gave in. "I'm feeling a little nauseous," he admitted, his eyes flickering away from Heyes' steady gaze.

"_And_?" the other prodded having noted the blue eyes shifting away, knowing the Kid was hiding something.

"And I'm passing blood," Curry admitted reluctantly.

Heyes nodded. "We've been so concerned about your back that we plumb forgot about Grimes usin' you as a punching bag! Must've bruised your kidneys some, maybe your other innards, too. Not too surprising you feel a mite sick. At least you're seeing the world out of two eyes today!" The attempted joke didn't bring even the ghost of a smile to the Kid's lips and Heyes sobered. "Get back to bed, Kid."

With a weary nod, Curry shuffled back to his room and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Heyes followed behind him with a bucket of water and a long handled ladle. "You should drink plenty of water, Kid, flush those kidneys out," he said.

"I am thirsty," Curry replied and raised a ladleful of cool water to his lips, drinking greedily. Satisfied, he sighed and measured his length on the bed.

"I'm gonna leave this here within reach," the ex-leader said, "You drink as much as you can."

"Okay, Heyes," the other sighed, closing his eyes.

Heyes reached over and laid his hand gently against his partner's forehead, frowning as he felt the excess warmth. "Get some sleep, Kid; if you need anything you just call me, okay?"

"Okay, Heyes," Curry repeated.

Heyes laid the quilt over his best friend and then walked to the door, pausing to look back. _Why can't it ever be easy?_ he asked himself then shut the door quietly behind him.

Thunder crashed, each peal reverberating around the cliffs that were the fortress walls of Devil's Hole and lightning bolts split the clouds that darkened the sky so that it appeared almost like night. Torrents of rain fell soon after and Heyes was grateful to be out of it, snug in the cabin that had been his home for so many years. He put another log on the fire, lit a lamp, poured himself a cup of coffee, snuggled into the worn easy chair with a book that he'd picked up back in Silver City and had yet had no time to read. The story sucked him in until he was no longer aware of the violence of the storm outside.

At some time he must have dozed off for he was startled awake by what he wasn't sure of at first. The fury of the storm had ceased, replaced by the soothing patter of raindrops on the roof and he sat silently, waiting for whatever had awakened him to repeat itself.

"Heyes!" Curry's voice sounded faintly from his room.

Heyes set his book aside and crossed to the closed door, pausing as he heard his partner say, "Keep away from him, Glover! Heyes!" Realizing Curry was dreaming and concerned that his fever had risen, he opened the door.

As the door swung wide, the finely honed alert system that had kept him and his partner alive pierced the fevered fog that blanketed Curry's brain causing him to sit bolt upright while at the same time drawing and firing the .45 that hung at the ready on his bedpost at the dimly seen figure in the doorway. "I won't let you hurt him, Glover!" he screamed as the shadow dropped to the floor, the explosion of the gunpowder rivaling the earlier claps of thunder.

He swung his feet to the floor, gun at the ready, and stood, expecting to see the body of his enemy sprawled on the floor, but instead beheld an empty space!

Momentarily confused, he paused until the tiniest movement of the door spun him towards it, emptying three chambers into the wood! "You can run but you can't hide, Glover!" he raved.

Expecting to see a bloody body behind the door, the gunman was unprepared for the strong hand grasping the wrist of his gun hand from behind, another clamping onto his left elbow and pulling it behind his back! He struggled but the grips were too strong for his weakened body.

As he ceased struggling, a familiar voice said calmly in his ear, "Are you finished, Kid?"

"Heyes?" he whispered. "How did you get loose?"

"First give me the gun and then we'll talk about it, okay?"

"Sure." Curry let the six-gun dangle by its trigger guard on his finger and the hand released his wrist and took the gun. He turned around to see his partner replace the gun in its holster. "I don't understand, Heyes. Where's Glover? I couldn't have missed him!"

"Come back to bed, Kid," Heyes said, taking Curry's arm again and leading him back to the bed, pushing him gently until he sat on it. "Glover isn't here, Kid. Lom and the gang took him, remember? It's just you an' me here."

"But I _saw_ him!" Curry protested. "I _shot_ …" He stopped midsentence, his eyes widening in horror. "I shot at _you_, Heyes! Oh, God! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He grasped his partner's shoulders, running his eyes over his body, searching for wounds.

Heyes grinned and patted the other's shoulder. "I'm okay, Kid, you missed me!" 

"_Missed you?_ I _never_ miss, Heyes!" Curry retorted indignantly.

"Don't take it to heart, Kid – you're sick and I move like a whip snake, remember?" Heyes' dimple flashed.

"Right," the other replied dryly and fell back against the pillow, a hand to his head. "I can't believe I shot at you, Heyes! What was I thinking?"

"You were having a fever dream, thinking I was Glover. You want to tell me about it?"

Curry shrugged. "Glover had you strung up between the posts an' was gettin' ready to whip you an' I just couldn't let 'im! I thought of all the beatin's you took as a kid that I couldn't prevent an' I sure wasn't gonna let you take this one!" He paused, panic widening his eyes again. "What would I have done if I'd killed you?"

"Next time you're sick I'll lock your gun up!" Heyes laughed.

"It ain't funny, Heyes!" Anger sparked in the blue eyes.

"Relax, Kid, it's over – no harm done!" Heyes soothed the younger man. He pulled the quilt back up over him. "Now why don't you try and get some more sleep?"

"I don't think I can."

"Sure you can; just close your eyes." Heyes stood and moved towards the door.

"Heyes?"

"Hmmm?"

"Ain't'cha forgettin' somethin'?"

"What?"

"My gun."

Heyes sighed and took the gun belt off the bedpost. "You worry too much, Kid."

Curry snorted and closed his eyes, hearing his partner's soft laugh as he closed the door.

The storm had passed, replaced by a clear blue sky and brilliant sunshine, one ray of which insisted on shining on the sleeping Kid Curry's visible eye causing him to growl and slam his pillow over his head. Drifting off again, he was rudely jerked awake by an insistent pounding that seemed to be coming from the roof. "What the heck?" he grumbled.

Sleepy-eyed, he staggered out of his room clad only in his long john pants. A fire burned and a pot of ever-present coffee steamed on the stove, but there was no sign of Heyes and the pounding continued.

Rubbing both hands through his tousled curls, he continued outside, determined to put a stop to whatever was making that noise!

He stepped off the porch a few steps and looked up to the roof only to see his partner kneeling on the shingles and wielding a rhythmic hammer.

"Heyes, what the heck're you doin' up there?" he shouted grumpily.

Startled, Heyes stopped his pounding and turned to look down at the Kid. "Oh, mornin', Kid! Did I wake you? I was tryin' to be as quiet as I could."

"And just _how_ do you hammer quietly, Heyes?" Curry growled.

Heyes shrugged sheepishly. "The storm brought a half a dozen holes to light an' I figgered it'd be nice to fix 'em before we leave."

"Yeah, nice, Heyes, but did you _have_ to do it so early in the morning?"

"_Morning?_ It's almost _noon_, Kid!"

"Really?" Curry glanced up at the sun. "Oh - - okay, then."

"I left some coffee on for you. Why don't you grab a cup? I'll finish this last shingle and come down."

The blond yawned and flapped his hand at his partner as he turned back into the cabin. Heyes chuckled to himself and returned to pounding nails.

Curry had struggled into his clean jeans and slipped his extra shirt on, buttoning it but leaving it untucked so it would still hang loosely over his scabbed back. This had been an arduous task still and he was only just pouring his cup of coffee when Heyes joined him. Without comment, Kid poured another and set it on the table as his partner flung himself into a chair with a satisfied sigh and a grin.

"Thanks, Kid." He picked up the cup and sipped at the hot brew. "I think the roof oughta hold through the winter now. I think I'll start checking out the bunkhouse roof next – I'm bettin' it's full of leaks, too."

"We need to get back on the road, Heyes," Curry reminded him.

"I know! I know! When you're healed up enough, we'll go."

"I _am_ healed up enough! I've ridden in worse shape than _this_!" Curry countered.

"Yeah," the dark head nodded in agreement. "You have – we both have – but that was cuz we were on the run an' had no other choice! Nobody's chasing' us so you've got time to heal up proper, get your strength back before we leave. Hell, Kid, just last night you had a fever! In fact, I think you must still have it, you're talkin' delirious!"

"I ain't delirious, Heyes! You just mentioned winter, which is comin' soon, an' even sooner up in Cold Water. Weren't we plannin' on bein' back there for the winter?"

"Kid, it's only August!" Heyes laughed.

"You think we got enough of a stake to get us through?"

"Between what we've sent already and what we can earn on our way there, yeah, we've got plenty, so I'm sure we can spare a couple more days for you to get your strength back."

Curry sighed heavily. "Fine, Heyes, I'm too tired to argue with you."

Heyes forbore to say 'I told you so", but instead said, "Besides, I want to make sure Wheat an' the gang get back alright – y'remember they went off with Lom."

"Lom's our friend – they oughta be safe with him."

"As long as nobody recognizes them, like Lom's over-dutiful deputy, Harker, and forces Lom to forget that friendship. It wouldn't look good for an ex-outlaw to be ridin' with outlaws he ain't bringin' in to justice."

"What're the odds of somethin' like _that_ happenin'?"

"Pretty slim, I admit, but I'll feel better when they're back."

"Gotta say I will, too, Heyes. So you go on with your mendin' while I go on with mine."

"And people call you unreasonable!" Heyes joked, drawing an answering grin from his partner. "First some lunch, though; I've had some stew simmerin' all mornin' and I baked some fresh biscuits.

"Great, I'm starvin'!"

Heyes shook his head hopelessly. "When _aren't_ you, Kid?"

When they had finished, Heyes stood and began to gather the dishes.

"Let me do the cleanin' up, Heyes," Curry said. "I ain't good for much else for now."

After so many years with his partner, Heyes knew the other man's need to be useful so he agreed, saying only, "But you'll get some more rest after you finish, right?"

"Yes, Heyes," the injured man sighed.

"Okay, then, I'm going to get back to work. See you later."

Curry watched his partner leave the cabin with a spring in his step, pleased that he seemed to have put his black anger aside. Heyes in a dark mood had always made the gang nervous, tiptoeing around their leader as if walking on eggshells. Well-acquainted with his friend's moods, Curry never felt fear, at least not personally, but more for Heyes himself because one never knew what he was capable of doing in such a mood.

Cleaning up took longer than it should have since the Kid moved slower than usual and he found the job left him physically tired, which it shouldn't have done under normal circumstances, so he found it easy to follow Heyes' instructions and go back to bed. He dropped quickly into a deep sleep.

He had no idea how long he'd slept when the incessant sound of hammer on wood woke him once again. "Heyes, I thought you finished our roof!" he groaned and rolled out of bed and to his feet. He padded outside determined to silence the hammering so he could get some sleep.

Outside, he squinted up to the roof, but saw no sign of his partner and now the sound seemed to be coming from behind the cabin. He followed it saying, as he rounded the corner, "How do you expect me to get better, Heyes, if you keep hamm –" he stopped dead in his tracks as he came face to face with the Devil's Hole gang. "Howdy, boys! When'd you get back?"

None of the gang answered him, but stood, hats off, staring at Wheat, who was crouched on the ground, hammering. Curious, Curry moved closer and was surprised to see that it was a grave marker Wheat was pounding into the ground. "Who's grave is that, Wheat?"

Wheat didn't answer, but stood so that Curry could see the name carved into the cross: Hannibal Heyes!

"Heyes? Wheat, that ain't funny!" Kid exclaimed.

"It ain't no joke, Kid - - Heyes is dead, but you know that cuz _you _killed him!"

"I - - _what?"_ the gunman stammered as the whole gang turned accusing eyes on him.

"Don't play dumb, Kid!" Wheat sneered. "You know you done it; heck, the holes in the door and the blood on the floor don't lie!"

"_No!_" Curry shouted in denial. He turned and ran back into the cabin, stopping when he saw the three neat holes through his bedroom door. Heart thudding in dread, he slowly approached and pushed the door open to reveal a large, dark stain on the floorboards. He dropped to his knees, stunned, the irrefutable evidence of his evil deed there before him.

He buried his face in his hands, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest as tears refused to fall.

"_You got somethin' to say to me, Jones?"_

The hated voice pierced Curry's brain, reigniting the implacable anger he'd felt at Danny Bilson's betrayal and Seth's resultant death. He opened his eyes to the hot, dusty street of Matherville, Danny, in his dandified clothes, standing in the middle, tensed for the draw.

"_How far you figger on goin' towards gettin' yourself hanged just to get even with 'im?"_ Heyes' voice echoed in the gunslinger's mind.

"As far as I have to," Curry muttered to himself, squaring himself to the other gunman and pulling the glove off his right hand.

Both men drew, the speed of their draws just blurs, but to Curry's eyes the action appeared to slow down and he was suddenly facing, not Danny Bilson, but his partner, who stood, gun holstered, mouthing, "Don't, Kid!"

It was too late to stop the bullet and to the Kid's horrified eyes it struck Heyes dead center and he fell to the dusty street, his hand vainly seeking to stem the flow of blood!

"Heyes!" Curry cried and raced to his friend's side. Heyes' white shirt was already soaked crimson, his breaths mere gasps, and Kid knew there was nothing anyone could do. He looked into Heyes' fast fading eyes and sobbed, "This isn't the way it happened! This has _got_ to be a bad dream!" But the slight body in his arms stilled and grew limp in spite of his protests.

"_Well, it looks like we'll have two jigs today!"_

"Oh, God, not Briggs, too!" Curry groaned to himself.

"_You've got two seconds, friend . . ."_

Curry stopped listening, turning slightly to see Heyes standing tensely a bit behind him - -where he always stood, always backing him up.

"Don't, Kid," he said. "Turn the other cheek, remember?"

Curry's face was set, his blue eyes hard, refusing to accept any further humiliation from this jumped up bully in front of him. He was aware of his partner's sigh at the inevitable as he turned back to face his enemy. "No, it's _yours_," he said.

Once again two guns were drawn, two shots were fired, Briggs falling to the street, his arm broken, while Curry stood untouched. A choking sound caught his attention and he turned to find Heyes once again on the ground, his life's blood staining the dust! By shooting Briggs in the arm he had ruined his aim and the bullet had struck his partner instead! "Heyes!" he cried again, dropping to his knees and cradling the dark head in his arms.

"Didn't I tell ya you were gonna do somethin' stupid?" Heyes gasped.

"You were right, Heyes; you're always right! I thought my natural stubbornness would kill _me_, though, not _you_! This ain't _fair_!"

"Who - - ever said - - life was fair, - - Kid?"

The dark eyes closed and Curry cried, "Not again! You can't die again, Heyes!" But there was no response and the blond head bent to the dark one as sobs wracked his frame.

Two shots in the dark, a pained cry, and Curry was once again in the mountains above Cold Water facing Dick Ramsey, who held a grudge against him and had begun to take it out on his partner, Hannibal Heyes.

"That someone I should know, Kid?" Heyes had asked as Curry had tended his wounds.

"I didn't figger I'd see 'im again," Curry replied.

"No, we'd just both get shot from ambush!" the other retorted.

Curry frantically applied cloth after cloth to the gushing wound in his partner's side but it refused to stop until the last had spilled onto the ground and Hannibal Heyes lay once again dead!

"No!" Curry howled. "It shoulda been _me_! It shoulda been _me! It shoulda been me!"_

Curry sat bolt upright in bed, sweat and tears streaming down his cheeks, his chest heaving in painful gasps. The dreams still fresh in his mind he leapt from the bed and ran barefoot from the cabin and across to the bunkhouse. "Heyes!" he shouted. "Heyes, where are you?"

"What're you shoutin' about, Kid?" Heyes asked, stepping through the door of the building.

Disdaining a reply, Curry dashed up to his partner and grabbed him by the shoulders, squeezing hard to make sure the man was real and not another apparition. "Thank God, you're _alive_, Heyes!"

"'Course I'm alive, Kid! What's gotten into you?" Dark eyes examined the wild eyed, tangle haired man who held him.

"I _killed _you, Heyes! I killed you _four_ times! Well, really only twice myself, but I was responsible for the other two times anyway, so I may as well have killed you myself!"

Heyes took a firm grip on his partner's shoulders and shook him slightly. "Kid, you ain't makin' no sense whatsoever! For one thing a body can only die _once_! Why don't you sit down an' start from the beginning an' _this_ time make some sense!"

Curry took a deep breath and let it out while running trembling fingers through his tousled curls. "Okay, Heyes, good idea."

The two men sat on the edge of the bunkhouse porch, Heyes' arm wrapped firmly around his friend's shoulders as he related his dreams, and even though the blond head stayed bowed through the entire recital, Heyes could feel through the tightness of the broad shoulders the self-control it took to maintain his composure.

"It's okay, Kid," he reassured his friend once he'd fallen silent. "They were just bad dreams."

"It _ain't_ okay, Heyes!" Curry exclaimed vehemently. "I _nearly_ killed you last night! _When_ is my stubbornness and temper goin' t'get you_ really_ killed? You oughta get as far away from me as you can before I'm the death of you!"

"Kid, you had a _fever_ last night - - you weren't in your right mind, so you can't blame yourself for that!"

"Oh, so if I kill you when I'm not in my right mind that makes it all right? Well, it _don't_! Trouble follows me because of my gun an' you get caught up in it even when it ain't none of yours - - just like when Ramsey shot you! I couldn't live with myself if I was the cause of you dyin', Heyes, I just couldn't! An' I ain't got no right draggin' Mary into it neither!"

"Now, Kid, you're just borrowin' trouble that ain't likely to ever happen!"

"How can you be sure, Heyes? Tell me that!" Curry looked at his partner, his blue eyes daring him to come up with an answer.

"I can't be one-hundred percent sure, Kid, but we've always faced whatever trouble came our way _together_ an' that's how it's going to stay! We're a team, Kid. Heck, you've _saved_ my life with that gun more times than I care to think about - - what was that you told me one time: the only thing keepin' me alive was you! Now why would you want to go an' change that?"

"Would you have needed savin' if I hadn't been around?"

"Now you're just talkin' plain crazy, Kid! Would you have wanted me to face down Briggs by myself?"

"That's just the point, Heyes, you wouldn't have had to cuz you didn't wear your gun like Briggs said; it was only my stubbornness that made it all happen!"

Heyes shook his head and sighed. "What a pair we make, Kid, both of us blamin' ourselves for somethin' that ain't our fault!"

"What're you talkin' about?"

"_I_ was angry and blamin' myself for Glover nearly killin' you and wantin' to go off an' kill 'im - - as if that would've changed what had happened! _You're_ blamin' yourself for actions you couldn't control while you were sick! Both of us more worried about the other than ourselves. What a pair we make," he repeated with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Curry inhaled deeply then let the breath out while rubbing his face with his hands. "You're right, Heyes, but those dreams shook me up pretty bad; seein' you die like that is my worst fear!"

"I don't wanna see you die either, Kid, so let's make sure it never happens, okay? Now," Heyes looked up at the sun. "There's a couple more hours before the sun goes down an' I've got a hankerin' for fish for supper - - you figger you can catch a couple?

The blond looked at his partner suspiciously, "Are you tryin' to distract me?"

"Is it workin'?"

"Yup."

"Then that's what I'm tryin' t'do! 'Sides which I'm hungry!" Heyes grinned mischievously.

"Okay, Heyes, I'll have us a couple of big trout in no time!"

A shadow crossed Heyes' face as he watched his partner walk away to gather up his fishing gear. He hadn't shared with him the fact that his own sleep was still plagued with gory dreams - - what would be the point anyway? He'd found that working himself into exhaustion was a good way of keeping them at bay. He sighed. They had come so far yet sometimes it felt like they were still as far from the promised amnesty as they had been that first day. He sighed again and rose to finish the mending of the roof.

There was nothing left of the promised trout but skin and piles of tiny bones when the two ex-outlaws leaned back in their chairs, stomachs content.

"Another cup of coffee, Kid?"

"Any more of that whiskey left?" Curry countered.

"A couple of glasses maybe."

"How 'bout we finish that off?"

"Sure."

Heyes got up and brought the near empty bottle and two glasses to the table, pouring for them both. They silently saluted each other before taking big swigs.

"You didn't happen to clean my gun the other night?" Curry asked.

"Nope."

"How 'bout you give it back so I can do it?"

"Only if you promise not to shoot me!"

Curry gave his partner a sour look. "That ain't funny, Heyes."

"Lighten up, Kid, where's your sense of humor?" Heyes teased.

"Some things ain't for jokin', Heyes!"

Heyes fetched the Kid's Colt and his cleaning kit and the gunslinger began to methodically break it down and clean every nook and cranny of it. "Can't believe you didn't clean it," he muttered.

"You'd've cleaned it again even if I had so why go to all that bother?"

"Huh!" Curry grunted.

They sat companionably by the fire, finishing the bottle of whiskey; Heyes gazing pensively into the flames while his partner tended his gun.

"You think you're up to helpin' me fix the bunkhouse door tomorrow, Kid?"

Curry looked critically at his partner. "You plannin' on goin' into the carpentry business, Heyes?"

"Nah, just keepin' busy. You prefer I twiddle my thumbs?"

"I guess I can help you with the door. You oughta let Wheat an' the boys fix it, though, they busted it down!"

Heyes laughed shortly. "They're more likely to hang a blanket over it an' freeze all winter than rehang the door!"

"Serve 'em right!"

"Yeah, it would." Heyes paused. "I'm bettin' they'll pull in tomorrow, if nothin' happened to 'em. I hope so anyway, I'm ready to hit the trail."

"I'm surprised y'ain't got restless before this, Heyes."

"Maybe I'm practicin' for settlin' down."

"Huh!" Curry grunted again.

Curry's gun properly cleaned and the liquor polished off, the two men retired for the night, both hoping for dreamless sleep.

Three gunshots announced the return of the Devil's Hole gang as Curry and Heyes were putting the finishing touches on the door.

"Told ya so, Kid."

"Hey, I didn't bet against ya, Heyes!"

In a cloud of dust the outlaws galloped up to the bunkhouse, grins plastered all over their faces.

"What're you scruffy outlaws grinnin' about?" Heyes growled.

"Lom weaseled a ree-ward outta that Army colonel what came to pick up Glover an' the others - - five _thousand_ dollars! He gave us half an' he's holdin' the other half for you an' the Kid down there in Porterville!" Wheat exclaimed joyfully.

"That's great news, Wheat! Hope you an' the boys didn't blow it all already!" Curry said.

"Heck, no, Kid! Sure we had some fun, but we stocked up on enough supplies t'get us through the winter in fine style!"

"There's hope for you yet, Wheat!" Heyes praised the current leader of the gang. "Now you're back, we'll be headin' out tomorrow."

"Sure y'can't stay around a while longer?"

Heyes shook his dark head. "Like you said, Wheat, winter's comin' an' we got somewhere to be."

"Well, if'n you say so, Heyes, but you and the Kid are welcome here any time!"

"Mighty hospitable of you, Wheat," Curry put in.

After a veritable feast that night, Heyes and the Kid played a few hands of poker with their friends, careful not to win too much from them, before calling it a night with the excuse that they wanted an early start in the morning.

The whole gang was up to see them off, though some of them were the worse for hangovers.

"You take care, boys," Heyes said in farewell.

"You, too, Heyes, Kid."

With a final tip of their hats, the two ex-outlaws once again rode out of Devil's Hole in their quest for respectable lives.

The End


End file.
